For over a decade, the Sybaritic Single heads to Paris every January to be part of the fashion week. But as glamorous as it may seem, it’s a quite tiring experience even for a seasoned front row doyenne.
Despite the early morning, he is immaculately dressed all in Dior and is running late as he calls Le Meurice to move his breakfast to 8:45. Skipping two-Michelin-star Ducasse croissants, he focuses on caviar and drowns five glasses of Champagne – the usual fashion week breakfast.
He then kills another two hours before the défilé at Bar Vendôme at the Ritz where a few more flûtes and a dozen of raspberries set him in the right mood for the Dior show. He hops from Place Vendôme to Place de la Concorde where crowds of screaming fans erupt into cheers at his arrival. The luxury addict watches 59 models parade – and there are even more men wearing skirts than he saw in Cairo last month. Complementing the spectacle, Gwendoline Christie and Robert Pattinson recite T.S. Eliot’s 1922 poem “The Waste Land”, their faces projected onto the screen.
Half an hour later, he rushes back to the Ritz collecting more compliments along the way for another Champagne, and then another one on the rooftop of Cheval Blanc before arriving at the grand Jean Imbert au Plaza Athénée for a triumphant dinner: now that the Dior show is over, he can finally eat after two weeks of fasting. A full-on fantasy.
Knowing the menu by heart, he orders the most photogenic Bellevue Spiny Lobster followed by a Truffle Chantilly Tart, laced by five or six viciously fattening amuse-bouches. The most charming Jean Imbert himself passes by to say hello but the Sybaritic Single barely notices him, busy with two types of Champagne, suoerb cuisine and posting it all on Instagram.
Later, he lands at Salon Proust at the Ritz for a cozy nightcap. His bleary eyes see a whirlwind of men wearing skirts, dancing lobsters and the blue ocean of the Ritz Club swimming pool. Hours later, he wakes up in the darkness of the Ritz, all alone – sans the Dior brooch which he has lost along the way. The only waiter suggests he forgets about the bill, the brooch and heads straight to bed.
